


The Hobbit 1966: Thanks for Everything William L. Snyder

by teaDragon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, HRBB14, based off of the 1966 Hobbit film, everyone learns some very important lessons, full of places and characters you almost know, loshka, though it's technically cannon to the film
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaDragon/pseuds/teaDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the terrible monster-lizard Slag descends on Dale The City of Golden Bells, he burns everything to ash and transforms all of its people into gemstones. </p><p>The three survivors of the attack, Princess Mika Milovana, General Torin Oakenshield, and the Watchman Who Fell Asleep, must go on an epic quest to defeat the dragon and save their people! With their reluctant hobbit Dragon Slayer, they'll face grablins and groans, giant moths and attercops in their mighty quest to save Dale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hobbit 1966: Thanks for Everything William L. Snyder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [loshka's prompt](http://loshka.tumblr.com/post/93732813045/my-draft-for-the-hobbitreversebang-1966-au-if) for the hobbit reverse big bang 2014.
> 
> This is based off of the 1966 Hobbit cartoon, which you can check out [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRqbdpbDwVo) (it covers the whole story in less than 15min! Amazing.)
> 
> I've also been heavily influenced from _The Wizard of Oz_ , and the works of Rankin Bass (especially their Hobbit film) so watch out for any similarities.
> 
> Go check out [loshka's stuff](http://loshka.tumblr.com/), she's awesome!

 

Long, long ago, in the time of Middle Earth, when magic and wonder was all around, long before men came to power, stood the City of Golden Bells. Dale.

The city was filled with enchantments and beauty, tall towers crowned with heart shaped gems could be seen dazzling the sky with their brilliance. But fairest of all of Dale’s treasures was the white heart of the mountain, the Arkenstone of old.

The people there were happy and carefree, living in the blessed Golden Realm.

Suddenly, out of the sky came catastrophe! An ancient evil had descended upon the kingdom, the monster-lizard Slag, the Terrible. The most ancient of evils on Middle Earth.

With fire and magic he besieged the city, burning the city to ashes and turning the once merry people into gemstones for the monster-lizard to hoard. He dragged off the many marvelous and wondrous treasures of Dale. Even, the Arkenstone itself!

Slag took the Arkenstone as his own, keeping it and all the other treasures he had stolen with him in his lair, made deep within the Lonely Mountain from which the Arkenstone had come from.

Only three managed to survive the flames and the terrible curse. The mighty General Torin Oakenshield, the Watchman Who Fell Asleep when the dragon came (and thus survived the attack), and the Princess Mika Milovana of the City of Golden Bells.

They stood on a hill, watching their city burn in the distance. The Princess swore then and there that she would see her Kingdom reclaimed and the great beast slain, whatever the cost.

“Gandalf,” whispered General Torin. “Only the great wizard Gandalf can help us now.”

The three weary companions traveled long and far to find the great, lonely tower of the wizard Gandalf. For surely if there was any that could help them destroy the terrible monster-lizard, it would be him.

“Hmmm,” said the great wizard when Mika and her loyal companions reached his ltower and told their woeful tale. The wizard puffed powerfully on his pipe, consulting his magical _Book of Middle Earth_ as he did so.

“Please your magicalness, can you help us?” asked Mika.

Gandalf blew a bright green and yellow smoke ring that turned into a giant teakettle and turned all the colours of the rainbow before giving a loud ‘pop’ and disappearing. He stuck his great bushy eyebrows out from under the rim of his pointy grey hat, giving them all a significant look. _“Hmmmmmm.”_ He was a very mighty and wise wizard indeed.

And wizards are never to be rushed.

 

“So it has come to pass,” the wizard said finally, tucking his eyebrows back under his hat’s rim and turning back to the book. His long fingers touched the pages of the _Book of Middle Earth_ laying open on a pedestal. “The terrible monster-lizard has destroyed Dale. See?”

Peering down at the book, the three companions could see a depiction of Slag, fire and gemstones surrounding the city in the monster-lizard’s wicked glee.

“Ah, and here,” the wizard turned the page, the next showing Slag curled up in a nest of treasure and gems, the Arkenstone glittering above him. “Slag has taken all the treasure into the caverns of the Lonely Mountain. You see how happy he looks in his wickedness, that smug smile? Curled up with the treasure of Dale, and your own people transformed into gems. See, here is a depiction of a person who’s been turned into a gem. They don’t look very happy.”

“Gandalf,” interrupted Mika uncomfortably, “Is there anything we can do?”

“Ah yes. The _Book of Middle Earth_ knows all,” flipping the page, the wizard peered down at the new illustration. “Oh look. We’re getting some familiar faces!” The wizard chuckled, lifting the book. The three companions saw themselves looking back at them, standing miserably in front of their ruined city, covered in ash.

“Quite the resemblance!” He said, looking back at Mika and her party who had similar expressions of their faces even now.

The great wizard chuckled. “My friends, it appears that there is one who can help you defeat Slag once and for all, and save your people.”

“Who?” asked Mika.

“How?” asked Torin.

“Where?” asked the watchman.

“It is the time,” Gandalf began, taking a long pull on his pipe, “Of the hobbit.”

 

 

~oOo~

Far, far way, in a peaceful little land called the Shire, filled with green grassy hills with round doors lived a hobbit. This hobbit lived, as all hobbits do, in a hole in the ground, filled with all the comforts of a snug, cozy little life.

Our hobbit’s name was Bilbo Baggins, and this particular morning found him curled up happily in his favourite armchair, reading a book with his tea, contented and satisfied all the way from his curly hair down to the tips of his fuzzy hobbity toes. For it was a very fine morning indeed.

“Oh yes,” agreed Bilbo, “A _very_ fine morning.”

What could be finer indeed? The sky was blue, birds were chirping merrily from his garden window, and he was snug at home after having a hearty hobbit breakfast.

Utterly unaware that his time had come.

The door burst open and suddenly they were there! Four very large, non-hobbity people. Eating all of his food and talking about dragons and monster-lizards and adventures! Why, they didn’t even knock on the door before storming inside and trampling mud all over his clean hole with their boots!

“Goodness gracious me!” squeaked the hobbit, understandably flustered at the sudden invasion of such big and loud people in the middle of his morning routine. He clutched his tea in terror as these uninvited guests barged around his comfortable little home.

“E-Excuse me!” he eventually shouted, attracting the attention of the intruders. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing in my house—or why you’re in my house at all!” cried the hobbit in distress.

This was without a doubt the single most awkward Wednesday he had ever had, and he very much wished he had simply stayed abed and slept through the whole thing.

“We are talking about _you_ , my remarkable hobbit,” the wizard said. For it was Gandalf, of course, along with our three companions from Dale.

“M-Me?” squeaked Bilbo faintly after giving a look around to see if there were any other remarkable hobbits standing around in his hole.

“You,” confirmed the wizard, pointing a long, gnarled finger at him from across the room.

“Oh dear. Oh dear, I think I’m going to sit down now…” said the hobbit faintly, stumbling back into his armchair and wishing that they would all just go away and be nothing more than a bad dream.

“I believe introductions are in order,” continued the wizard, and he gestured over to the yellow-haired lady. She stepped foreword and gave a polite curtsey with her red dress speckled in hearts.

“I am princess Mika Milovana of Dale, the City of Golden Bells. At least it _was_ a city of golden bells, though it isn’t anymore,” she finished, frowning.

“I-ah oh?” stuttered the hobbit, never having expected to meet royalty, let alone have a princess invading his home. He would have guessed from the crown atop her golden locks that she was royalty, though he was far too flustered to think clearly. “That’s a shame, I’m sure. It sounded lovely.”

“It was,” Mika sighed. Her eyes suddenly hardened, ”Until that cursed monster-lizard came down and burned away my city and turned my people into gemstones!”

“Monster-lizard!?” exclaimed Bilbo, spilling his tea in horror. “Oh, how very horrible! I am so sorry, your majesty.”

“We were the only survivors,” said Mika, looking to her companions. “This is my lead General of what once was the Dale garrison, Torin Oakenshield.”

The huge man stepped foreword, with long dark hair and a beard, the scowl on his face at odds with the bright heart adorning the top of his golden curved helm and his deep blue coat. The man took a good look at the little hobbit, his eyes widening a moment before narrowing, glaring down at the hobbit ferociously.

“Ah,” said Bilbo, taking a step back. “H-How do you do?” he stammered as the man continued to glare, his mighty beard and eyebrows bristling.

“Torin,” admonished Mika, crossing her arms and sending a warning glance at the massive man. “You _promised_ you’d be on your best behavior, didn’t you?” her dainty foot tapped impatiently as the huge man only frowned all the harder, eventually looking away from the petrified hobbit and scowling in a dejected kind of a way.

“That’s better,” Mika huffed.

“I am the Watchman Who Fell Asleep,” said the watchman, when it looked like no one was going to introduce him. He was dressed in a bright yellow coat lined with fur, a spotted blue cap on his head with a red heart hanging like a tassel from the end if it.

“Goodness. That is an odd name, if you’ll pardon me saying so,” remarked Bilbo. The man shrugged.

“My name is Bard, but I only managed to survive the attack by falling asleep. So, I am the Watchman Who Fell Asleep.”

“My, you must be a heavy sleeper,” exclaimed Bilbo. Just then, the man collapsed, falling flat on his face in the middle of the plush rug on the floor.

“Oh! _Oh!_ ” exclaimed the hobbit, fluttering around the man helplessly “Is he hurt!? What’s happened?”

“It’s alright,” said the princess, brushing off her dress and acting as if seeing her watchman fall flat on his face was a common occurrence (which it was). “He’s only sleeping. See for yourself.” As if on queue, the man began to snore, curling up on the rug and muttering about sheep and bowstrings.

“But now, back to the point,” said Gandalf, blowing large, glowing smoke rings that hung in the air above their heads, all different shapes and sizes.

“Yes, back to the point,” agreed Mika, and Torin gave a grunt in agreement. Bilbo himself was too distracted by the sleeping man on his rug to quite make any kind of noise either for or against the idea, so they continued on without it.

“If Princess Mika and her companions are to succeed, they are going to need some help,” said the wizard, giving Bilbo a meaningful look.

“Yes, oh yes!” said Bilbo. He hated to think of only the three of them facing a monster-lizard! “Such dreadful business I’m sure. You’d need a real expert.”

“Correct,” said Gandalf, in a very pleased and smug voice. “And that is why you will go with them.”

“What?! Me?!”

“Yes, _you._ ”

“You can’t be serious!” squeaked Bilbo.

“I’m not serious, I’m _Gandalf!_ And Gandalf, means _me!_ ”

“Oh dear, oh dear. No, no, no, there must be some kind of mistake! I am so sorry for your misfortune and wish you all the best,” rambled the hobbit, jumping to his feet and gathering up everyone’s packs and coats. “Make sure to let me know all about it when you succeed! Off you go, then!”

“Bilbo,” admonished the wizard, eyebrows creeping out from under the rim of his hat.

“Y-Yes?”

“Aren’t you the descendant of Bullroarer the Dragon Slayer?” asked the wizard, pointing to a portrait hung up on Bilbo’s wall of a hobbit standing triumphantly before a defeated dragon.

“Aha…oh that. Quite an amusing picture, isn’t it?” began Bilbo laughing, wringing his hands nervously. “My great-great-great-grandhobbit. Funny isn’t it, we don’t look a thing alike (Bilbo was nearly identical to the hobbit in the portrait), so clearly we can’t have anything in common. Besides, It was ages ago, and I am certainly no Dragon Slayer as he was!”

“Nonsense,” declared Gandalf, “You will make a fine Dragon Slayer.”

“But I don’t know a thing about dragons!” the hobbit all but wailed.

“Oh here, let me show you,” and the wizard helpfully pulled the _Book of Middle Earth_ from his robes and flipped open to the pages depicting the fall of Dale. “See, here’s Slag himself.”

“Ah,” the hobbit paled, looking down at the wicked monster-lizard, his fearsome mouth open as he reined fire down on the City of Golden Bells.

“Something like this,” with a wave of his staff, the multicolored smoke began to swirl together ominously and glow, giving a sudden ‘pop’ and suddenly Slag was there! Right inside Bilbo’s little home, looming over him with his mouth gaping and fearful bulging eyes.

Poor Bilbo made a sound rather like a teakettle boiling over and passed out in a dead faint, joining Bard senseless on the rug.

 

 

~oOo~

Bilbo dreamt he was making second breakfast in his hobbit hole, except all of his food kept turning into gold. There were gems and jewels everywhere, and even his favourite armchair had turned into solid crystal.

A large rumble shook the entire hole, and with alarm Bilbo realized that there was a large dragon curled up around the outside of the hill.

He jerked awake with a cry, finding Gandalf looming over him. The old man’s face broke into a smile. “There’s our hobbit! Now, about that quest.”

Bilbo groaned and got to his feet, finding the others looking at him. Bard was awake again, though he had the imprint of the carpet on the side of his cheek. Torin actually looked concerned, though as soon as the general noticed he was looking back he quickly scowled, growling unfriendly.

“We don’t have time for all of this!” declared Mika suddenly. “That great monster-lizard is sitting in that mountain at this very moment, with the Arkenstone and my poor people turned into gems!” as the princess spoke her hands began to glow, filling the room with their light.

“What in Middle Earth….” Bilbo mumbled to himself at the sight.

“I refuse to stand around all day doing nothing about it!” she declared, hands clenching into fists. “I’m gong now, with or without anyone else!”

“Ohhhh,” exclaimed Bard and Torin, watching their princess in awe. “The hands! The ruling hands, able to strike, able to reign benevolence and love, devastation and despair!”

“But how..?” asked Bilbo, enthralled.

“Surely you know about ruling hands?” asked Gandalf. When the hobbit shook his head, the wizard continued. “The hands of a Ruler are mighty hands indeed.”

“It’s how we choose our leaders,” explained Bard, “Those with the ruling hands are those born to lead. Like our princess.”

“Are you quite done talking about my hands,” asked Mika, huffing impatiently. “Now then, mister hobbit,” she said, turning to Bilbo. “Will you be joining us or not?”

“I—“

“They will surely perish without your help,” added Gandalf.

“You can’t be sure of that,” protested Bilbo, “And besides, they’re all mighty warriors or magical rulers. I’m just a hobbit.”

“You _are_ just a hobbit,” said Gandalf, “Just the hobbit we need! And I _can_ be sure, the Book has shown me so,” declared the wizard, whipping out _The Book of Middle Earth_ again.

“No!” everyone said all at once, and the wizard reluctantly tucked the book back in his robes.

“It says in the prophecy that it is the hobbit that will help us defeat Slag,” rumbled general Torin, glaring down at the hobbit. “We cannot go without you.”

“Then don’t go at all!” cried Bilbo, “It’s far too dangerous!”

“But we must go,” declared Mika, eyes (and hands) blazing. “Those are my people and _I_ am responsible for them!”

“Now Bilbo,” said Gandalf, “Don’t you want to help the princess and her friends?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“And don’t you want to help those poor people who were turned into gems and kidnapped by Slag?”

“Of course—“

“And don’t you think that Slag is too dangerous a threat to just leave there?”

“Certainly, though—“

“Then it’s settled,” declared Gandalf, nodding. “You’ll leave at first light.”

“Oh _dear,_ ” said the hobbit.

 

 

~oOo~

So, the next morning they were off, bright and early, led by the fearless princess on their quest. Gandalf saw them off, him being a wizard and far too busy and mysterious to embark on such an undertaking.

“It is not for wizards to do the mighty deeds,” he explained to Bilbo, who was devastated to learn they would be traveling without the help of a wizard. “We are here to guide merely, and only meddle when it is necessary,” he said with a wink.

Gandalf watched the four companions from his own distance, and gave a small chuckle. He knew well what dangers they faced, just as he knew that there was more to the reluctant Dragon Slayer than even Bilbo knew. Everything would turn out in the end, just so long as they stayed together and followed the path.

Gandalf vanished in a puff of smoke, drifting up into the sky and flying back towards his tower.

 

 

~oOo~

 

Following Torin’s ancient map, they took the path Gandalf had suggested, leading the three survivors back to their destroyed home and our hobbit far, far away from his. He watched as the friendly, rolling hills and flowers of the Shire passed them by, becoming nothing more than a green smudge on the far horizon.

“Goodbye Shire,” the hobbit called softly, turning back and giving a last wave to his home. He was already beginning to regret his decision.

They walked, and walked and walked, and the longer they walked the less and less Bilbo felt he was a Dragon Slayer. Or even a hobbit of the Shire. No proper hobbit would travel around with a Princess and a General and a Watchman who fell asleep at the drop of a hat.

Bard was in fact sleeping at this time, Torin carrying him easily over one shoulder as they walked along the road to Dale.

The lands outside of the Shire are dangerous, and in fact become more and more so the further out you go. And Dale and the Lonely Mountain were almost as far out as you could go. Bilbo Baggins had no idea of the dangers that awaited them.

They had passed into the Groan Lands.

Groans. Skin as thick as bark, these horrible monsters are always hungry, but it is for human flesh that they crave most. Wandering the Groan Lands, they can only travel by night, for if the sun should touch their skin they will turn back into gnarled old trees.

Two particularly hungry and wicked groans had made their fire from the ruins of an old cabin, and were roasting mutton over a spit. It was not nearly enough to sate their hunger.

But little did they or our companions know, that very soon there would be something else on the menu.

Bilbo sniffed the night air, his stomach growling as he caught the scent of something roasting. He patted his poor tummy sadly, missing his plentiful pantry back in his little hobbit hole. Oh, but he was hungry!

“Do you smell that?” asked Bard, Torin putting him back on his feet as woke and began to sniff at the air.

“Oh, it’s marvelous,” exclaimed Mika.

“Look!” Torin said, pointing. “There’s a glow over there. Something must be cooking over that fire.”

“Well folks, looks like it’s dinner time!” cried Bard, taking off at a run towards the light.

“Don’t eat all of it, now!” shouted Torin, following.

“It smells so good!” And Mika took off as well.

“Wait! Save some for me!” shouted Bilbo, trying his best to keep up with the longer legs of his companions, them being much larger then he was. But they had long gotten to the campfire before the hobbit could. And a good thing it was too.

When Bilbo got closer to the light he began to hear voices. Low, ugly voices. He could hear his friends—but they did _not_ sound happy.

“Put me down, you great brute!” shouted Mika

“Ow! That one hit me!” yelped the low voice.

“Stop struggling,” the other voice said. “You’ll make a lovely dinner once we’ve roasted you for a bit.”

Peering cautiously over an old, hollow log, Bilbo’s eyes widened as he caught site of the two monstrous groans, tying his friends to a large spit over the fire. He gave a silent squeak of fear, crawling into the log in terror and trying to make as little sound as possible.

“Ouch! Hot, oh it’s hot!” called Bard’s voice.

“Oh why oh why did I ever leave my little hobbit hole?!” Bilbo said to himself, toes shaking in fear. His poor friends. He had to do something!

“It’s hot because you’re being roasted,” said the groan, irritably.

“Why are we roasting them?” asked the other. “They’d make a better stew.”

“You burned the mutton, so we’re doing it my way!” said the first one, angrily. The other lurched up and angrily punched his companion, sending the spit with Mika and Torin and Bard (who had fallen asleep again) to the ground.

“You shut up!” Bilbo silently gasped at their bad language. “We’re roasting them and that’s final.” It looked as if the groans might settle down again and get back to cooking poor Mika and Torin and Bard.

And then he got an idea. Luckily for our friends, Bilbo had herd tell of the legends of groans. He knew that dawn was not very far off now, and if he were to stall the creatures until then, they would turn back into trees with the light of the sun.

Bilbo had always been a good mimic, so plucking up his courage he cleared his throat.

“I didn’t burn the mutton, you did!” the second groan seemed to say, though his lips did not move.

“No, _you_ did!” exclaimed the first.

“Don’t be stupid, you great soft-footed food hoarder!” Bilbo called, silently apologizing for using such crass language. Such names might not mean very much to you or me, but to a hobbit there were few worse things to be called than ‘soft footed’ or a ‘food hoarder’. If you were a hobbit you would have shuddered at such names being tossed about. Even at rude creatures such as groans.

Neither groan knew what either name meant, but they did know they were both angry, and so with a roar they were fighting.

They fought and fought and fought. They forgot everything except their fighting, crashing around through their camp completely oblivious to their intended meal or even the fire.

When the first light of the sun crept up through the trees they were caught completely unaware, and immediately turned into two gnarled old trees!

Bilbo had managed to save his companions and outwitted the awful groans.

 

 

~oOo~

Our friends were overjoyed at their Dragon Slayer for saving their lives. Well, everyone except Torin, that is. As soon as the general had gotten free of the spit, he had taken one scathing look at the hobbit and promptly stormed off.

“Is he alright?” asked Bilbo, staring after the spot where the general had gone.

“Oh he’s fine,” said Bard, waving his hand dismissively. “He get’s into moods, you see.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Bilbo said moodily, poking at the still burning fire with a stick.

“He probably does like you, and that’s why he’s run off,” said Mika, brushing the ash out of her dress.

“How on earth does that work?” asked Bilbo in confusion.

“Torin is actually a big softy,” said the princess fondly. “That’s part of the reason he’s a General, he wants to protect things. But he’s not very good with his emotions.”

“He’s not bad with the scary ones...” muttered Bilbo.

“You know, I bet he’s more afraid of you than you are of him,” said Mika, grinning.

“What?!”

“If I know Torin,” began Bard, laying down on the ground and placing his cap over his eyes, “He’s off sulking because he feels bad that he was mean to you. Especially now that you’ve saved everyone’s lives.”

Bilbo frowned and scratched the back of his curly head. “Perhaps I should go talk to him?”

“Oh please do,” said Mika. “We’ll need him to be fully aware for when we cross the Misty Mountains tomorrow, and he’ll just continue to sulk and sulk if given the chance.”

“A-Alright,” Bilbo said doubtfully, rising to his feet and softly padding over to the General.

“General Oakenshield?” he called softly, seeing the man’s great, hulking form over by a boulder. “General—oh dear. Whatever is the matter?” asked Bilbo, dropping down in a crouch next to Torin.

The great man sniffled, scrubbing his face with his arm. “Something in my eye…” he mumbled, refusing to look at the hobbit.

“Um, Mr.General?” asked Bilbo.

“Torin,” grunted the man. “Call me Torin.”

“Oh, of course!” said Bilbo happily. “Torin. I was wondering if…well, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I-beg your pardon?”

“I’m sorry,” Torin said again, beginning to sniffle. “I was mean to you, and I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know if I could trust you, but now you’ve saved the lives of my friends, and I see I was wrong and cruel,” the man began to sob, hunching his shoulders miserably. "And you're such a nice little hobbit, and I frightened you!"

 

“Don’t be so down about yourself, Torin,” Bilbo said as the great General hunched over his knees sniffling. The hobbit patted the large man gently. “Why, you are one of the most honourable people I’ve ever known, and you only want to protect everyone,” the man simply cried harder, and Bilbo gave his back a pat.

“Oh, I thought you were a mean, scary general. But I can see now that you’re in fact a very good, kindly general instead.”

 

Bilbo squeaked as suddenly he was pulled into a hug, the General picking him right up and cuddling him like a teddy bear, “Thank you, Bilbo Baggins,” he said, sniffling into the hobbit’s curly hair, “With your help I know we can succeed.”

“Here,” Bilbo said kindly, offering him a handkerchief. The general accepted it with a watery smile, blowing his nose loudly before looking back at the handkerchief in wonder.

“It has hearts on it.”

“I thought it might cheer you up,” said Bilbo, smiling. “Oh no,” he said when the general offered it back, waving his hands around. “I want you to have it.”

But to the hobbit’s confusion and distress, the man only began to cry all the harder, great sobs wracking his huge body.

“Oh please don’t cry!” cried Bilbo. “I didn’t want to make you sad.”

“No no,” said the general, wiping at his eyes. “I’m not sad. I’m _glad_. These are tears of happiness. You’ve made me very glad indeed, little hobbit friend.”

And after that, our Mr. Bilbo Baggins found himself to be firmly a part of their little group, everyone now being very friendly indeed towards the little hobbit.

Maybe, he thought as they trekked along the ancient path, maybe adventures weren’t so bad after all.

 

 

~oOo~

Before they left the campsite, they discovered the Groan Cave the creatures had been using to hide from the sun.

“Look at these!” said Mika, pointing towards a small pile of glittering weapons. “These look as if they must be ancient.”

“They _look_ to be in good condition,” said Bard, picking up a bow and admiring it.

“Why on Middle Earth would groans have a pile of treasure?” asked Bilbo, peeking into the cave, unwilling to go inside. It did not smell terribly pleasant.

“They’re attracted to shiny things,” explained Torin, holding up a glittering blade.

They were very ancient indeed, just as Mika had guessed. And powerful. In the end, Torin ended up with the mighty Heart Blade, a sword with hearts carved all along the blade and into the shape of the pommel. Bard chose the legendary Black Bow and Arrow, enchanted to never miss their mark.

The princess had no need of weapons, her mighty fist and ruling hands more than a match for whatever evil they could meet.

And Bilbo?

Well, our hobbit naturally didn’t want to have anything to do with weapons of any kind. It simply wasn’t very hobbity, and he had no training at all with anything of the sort.

His friends however, were having none of it.

“But what if you need to fight?” asked Mika. “I can do my best to protect everyone, but even I can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Here, this one’s about your size,” said Bard, pulling out a small, slightly curving little sword. It didn’t look like very much, but unbeknownst to our friends at the time it was a very powerful and magical sword, indeed. “You’ll need something if you are to be our Dragon Slayer.”

But it was Torin that managed to convince the reluctant hobbit.

“What if you got separated from the group and couldn’t find your way back,” started Torin, eyes widening as his imagination got carried away. “You’d be all lost and alone—what if something happened?! And you couldn’t defend yourself! The what would you do? What could _we_ do?! Nothing!”

“Oh Torin,” said Bilbo, realizing just how sensitive and big-hearted the general truly was. “Please don’t cry! I’ll take the sword. I promise.”

Leaving the Groan Lands (and the two gnarled trees) behind, Mika and her party started on the next stage of their journey.

The rugged path though the great Misty Mountains.

It was a hard and jagged path they walked, going up and up, through the harsh winds and the rains that the mountains pelted at them. Bilbo was thoroughly miserable, as it was wet and cold and there was not a single blade of grass or friendly flower in sight. How he missed his cozy little hobbit hole, snug and warm and dry. What he wouldn’t give to be back at home in front of the warm fire with the tea kettle just beginning to sing.

On and on they went, until the path wound into the tunnels of the mountain itself, leading them out of the rain and cold and into the dark clutches of stone.

Mika lead the way with her fist raised high, glowing slightly in dark with her determination, the others following in her wake. Bilbo was at the back, uneasy to be surrounded by hard stone. Who knew what kinds of creatures lived in the horrid tunnels of the mountains?

Suddenly, he was gone!

Down a chasm Bilbo fell with a silent scream only to mark his passing. Down and down he fell, past horrid gleaming eyes in the dark, deep and deeper into the dark of the mountain.

Everything went black.

Meanwhile, the Princess was still boldly leading her small party, unaware of their hobbit companion’s absence. She held up a hand, halting everyone.

“Did you hear something?” she asked, glancing around.

Just then there was a large rumble, and the sound of pounding feet and high pitched giggles filled the air.

“Grablins!” shouted Torin, drawing his blade.

“This way!” yelled Mika, leading her companions away from the approaching creatures and further into the mountain. They burst into a wide cavern, and to their horror found it to be full of grablins! The creatures all chittered and jumped down at them, dashing towards our brave companions.

“Here they come!”

Mika began taking out grablins left and right, swinging her mighty fist at them and sending them all flying. Torin hefted his shield, bouncing creatures off in every direction.

And Bard—the watchman fell asleep. The mighty general was using his sword arm to hold the man up.

“WAIT!” Came a great voice causing everyone to stop.

Mika and Torin glanced at each other in confusion as the grablins all scrambled to form an aisle. Through the isle waked…the Great Grablin King himself!

Children all over Middle Earth had been warned of the Grablin King. Living deep under the Misty Mountains, he ruled the grablins with an iron fist, cruel and cunning and always looking for poor unaware travelers to snatch and gobble up should they pass through his kingdom.

Bard began to stir, and Torin settled him down on his feet, reaching for his bade. Mika stepped in front of them defensively, huffing and puffing up.

The Grablin King stopped before them, and Mika clenched her mighty fist, ready for an attack.

“Please, we mean you no harm!” The King cried, raising his arms.

“Then why did you attack us?” she asked angrily, Torin putting a hand on her shoulder to hold her back from taking a swing at the King.

“We grablins are always given such an awful reputation!” said the King fretfully, “Everyone calls us evil, nasty creatures that lurk in nasty wet tunnels and eat lost travelers. But it’s not true at all!”

The grablins all around cried out in a dismayed wailing, “Not true at all! Woe is us!”

“It’s just our lot in life it seems,” sighed the Grablin King, miserably. He seemed to deflate, and hunched his shoulders. “Everyone just takes one look at us and thinks we’re mean without even bothering to get to know us.”

“Just because we look a bit different and we live under a mountain doesn’t mean we’re bad guys,” said another grablin, and soon they were all nodding in agreement, a few sniffling here and there sadly.

The General had begun to get teary eyed and Bard was shuffling uncomfortably, but Mika was not yet convened. “But, you attacked us,” she said, confused.

“No no no!” cried the Grablin King, waving his hands. “You see, that is how we great our friends! We approach each other and joyfully clasp hands and jump up and down,” everyone nodded, chittering enthusiastically, “Come on, Gringa, Hoogin,” the King called, waving an arm. “Show them!”

Two grablins sprung down and the others all made a clearing for them. They ran up to one another quickly, shrieking in delight and clasping hands, bouncing up and down happily.

“ _Ohh,_ ” Mika’s party all said in unison.

The princess and her companions were all beginning to feel pretty ashamed of themselves, as you could probably imagine. Attacking a pack of well-meaning, friendly grablins!

“Oh dear,” said Mika fretfully.

“How awful of us!” Torin sobbed piteously into his handkerchief, blowing his nose loudly. “They only wanted to be _friends!_ ”

“What a misunderstanding,” said Bard sadly.

When no comment was heard from their hobbit-dragon slayer, they all turned to find—

No hobbit.

“Bilbo?” asked Mika, looking around.

“Hey, Mister Baggins!” called Bard.

“Little hobbit!” said Torin, worriedly.

But there was no sign of Mr. Baggins. Not even a single button or a furry foot.

Torin burst into tears again.

“Whatever is the matter?” asked the Grablin King at the company’s distress.

“It seems we’ve lost one of our companions,” Mika said grimly.

“Oh dear. How very awful. I’ll send out word of your missing friend to all my scouts! Don’t worry, your friend will be found.”

“Thank you Great Grablin King,” said Mika, curtseying. “And, we really _are_ sorry for attacking you. We had no idea you were _friendly_ grablins”

“That’s alright I suppose,” said the King, shrugging. “You’re not the first to make that mistake.”

“Do you think we can still be friends?” Torin said hopefully, looking up from his heart-covered handkerchief.

“Oh yes, let’s be friends!” cried the Grablin King.

So Mika and her companions greeted the Grablin King and the grablins _properly_ this time, much to the delight of everyone. It had been so long since the creatures had been able to make new friends, they were simply overjoyed!

Though they could not be entirely happy, as their hobbit companion was still nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry, we will find your little friend,” the Grablin King assured them, given the still sniffling general a pat on his massive arm.

“But he’s just so small,” Torin sniffled, worrying his spotted handkerchief. The sight of his handkerchif only further reminded him of their lost hobbit, and he fought back a sob. “What if he’s all alone in trouble somewhere?”

“Don’t be silly,” said Bard, trying to keep everyone’s spirits up. “Bilbo is very resourceful. He’ll find his way back to us in no time. Why, I bet he’s already on the other side of the mountains by now and waiting for us all to catch up!”

But what they didn’t know was that there was more than just grablins under the mountains.

Deep, deep down under the Misty Mountains, past Grablin Town, far below the chewed tunnels and pathways made by hateful creatures years before, were the roots of the mountain.

All was an inky darkness, far past any living creatures, far out of all knowledge and life.

There was nothing but _Groloo_.

Unremembered years before, a weak and rejected creature lived in the nothingness far beneath the mountains. This creature had found that which even Gandalf was still searching for: the One Ring of Power.

Groloo had hid it here in the dark, cringing alone with his ring for years and years, and for years and years he had done so undisturbed.

Until now.

When Bilbo opened his eyes he found himself on a small black island in the middle of an icy cold lake.

“Dearie me,” he said, rubbing his sore head, “Wherever on Middle Earth am I?”

Looking around did him little good. He could barely see anything at all, wherever he was.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, fingers meeting a cool metal. “What’s this?” It was a ring. “Why, a ring!” said Bilbo, slipping it on his finger. “It can be my souvenir to show the neighbours back home. If I ever get home, that is,” he added as an afterthought. Straightening up, he looked around again, trying to find some kind of a way out.

But he was not alone!

_“Grolooooo.”_

_“Groloooooooooo.”_

“Oh gosh-golly-goodness-gracious-dearie-me-oh my! Whatever in Middle Earth is that!?” He squeaked at the awful sound, little furry toes quaking.

It was of course, Groloo.

“Grolooo,” it said at the sight of the hobbit, licking its thin lips.

“Ahhhh!” shrieked Bilbo catching sight of the hideous creature. “Ahh, ah, that is…h-how do you do?” stuttered the hobbit, trying for politeness.

“What horrid nasty has come to steal our precious ring?” Groloo croaked, giant, bulging eyes glowing.

“Oh, oh no, I haven’t come to—“ Bilbo began, stuttering awfully in fright at the horrid thing.

“Our riiiiiing. It has the _preciousssss_.”

“What?! I don’t underst—oh! This ring?” asked Bilbo, holding out his hand.

“ _Grolooooooooo_. Give it back to ussss,” it hissed, eyes flashing.

“Of course, of course! Half a moment!” called Bilbo, reaching up to take off the ring. But the ring would not be budged. “Oh,” said Bilbo after a moment, “Oh, but I can’t take it off!”

Groloo bared his teeth threateningly. Just then, the ring suddenly began to glow with light.

 _“I am the One Ring of Power,”_ It's voice was light and melodious. _“And I have chosen my One True Bearer.”_

“Goodness gracious me,” said Bilbo dazed, holding his hand with the ring out in wonder. “A magic ring.”

Groloo however, was not very happy about this. With a sharp, rasping wail, it lunged at the little hobbit, thin, wiry arms stretched out to catch and squeeze.

“Tricksy hobbitses comes down to steal our precious. We should squeeze it, kill it!”

Bilbo screamed, and the ring let out a great flash of light, stopping Groloo and keeping him back.

 _“You must be brave, little hobbit,”_ the ring said. Bilbo gulped and nodded. Gathering his courage he made a great leap and leapt clear over the lake and onto the shore, darting up a passage. Groloo was hot on his heals, hissing and cursing and saying all kinds of awful rude things I dare not repeat here.

Hidden by the magic of the ring as he was, Groloo passed the hobbit right by, storming up and off down the tunnel leading out of the mountains.

“My, how convenient!” exclaimed the hobbit in wonder, smiling down at the little golden ring. It seemed to glow in happiness for a moment. “Well, only one thing for it,” he said, starting off after the creature cautiously. “Follow the leader.”

Groloo lead him up and up and up, through ancient twisting and chewed tunnels made years before, past nameless nasty things that lurked in darkness. Bilbo did his best to stay out of sight, and used the echoing calls of _"Groloooooo"_ as guidance when he got too far behind the creature. Up and up they went, until they were level again with the grablins.

Here was where Groloo stopped, twitching at the sounds of other living creatures from further up. But Bilbo had to keep going. So he bravely clutched his ring, and darted around Groloo, quick as lightening! And Groloo was none the wiser. Bilbo ran up the tunnel, feeling the air become lighter and brighter, far away from the dreadful, awful roots of the mountain.

“Go left or right?” he asked aloud, “Can’t do that. Go back? No sir. Go down? Impossible! There’s only one thing for it!” and with that the hobbit took himself off down the tunnel, trying to muster as much cheer as he could.

The sight of his glowing magical sword and ring lifted his spirits greatly, and he was sure that as long as he carried on everything would be fine.

And it was.

He hummed a little tune to himself, swinging his short sword and thinking of nice flowers and eggs and bacon and his kettle just beginning to sing, keeping the darkness of the tunnels at bay.

 

“Bilbo!”

“Mr. Baggins!”

“That’s odd,” said Bilbo, slowing, “I could have sworn I heard my name just now. But it can’t be. Walls can’t talk!” So he continued to walk.

 

“Hobbit! Where are you?”

Startled, Bilbo stopped.

“Now where on earth did that come from?” he asked. “Or rather, where _under_ earth did that come from?”

“H-Hello?” he called out, feeling a bit silly.

“Bilbo?”

“Torin?!”

“It’s Bilbo!”

“Mika? Bard?!” called the hobbit, recognizing the voices of his friends, along with some others he didn’t quite know, “Where are you?”

“Stay right there, Bilbo,” cried Mika’s voice, “We’ll be down in a minute!”

The hobbit’s toes wriggled happily in anticipation as the friendly voices came closer and closer. Suddenly from the tunnel in front of him came his friends! Mika and Bard and poor Torin, who’s eyes were still red and puffy from crying so much.

It was a very joyful reunion indeed.

They introduced their un-lost hobbit companion to their grablin friends, who were beyond delighted at making yet another friend in such a short period of time.

 

However the quest of Mika and her friends was not over. Far from it. In fact, there were a great many more dangers awaiting them, each more dangerous then the last.

But Gandalf, the great wizard in his tower, peering down at the _Book of Middle Earth_ , knew very well that as long as they followed their hearts and stayed together, they would be able to overcome whatever perils stood in their way.

 

 

~o:[End of Part One]:o~


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